Sentimental Notes
by saffroncremebrulee
Summary: He's a pastry chef in need of inspiration. She's a gourmand perfumer in search of a muse. Boy, girl, meet destiny, who has quite the sweet tooth. AU Peachshipping romance. Yugi x Anzu. On permanent hiatus.
1. Pomegranate

**Disclaimer:** I don't own YGO, nor am I a pastry chef, perfumer, or connoisseur of either.

I love desserts, romance, and writing fanfiction about YGO characters. This is the AU epic love story I promised after _Homecoming_ , with light swearing and possibly heavy petting down the road. We'll see...

* * *

Yugi Motou groaned in frustration.

Streaks of flour decorated his face. He scurried around the kitchen. A lone strawberry hung from the edge of one side-swept blonde bang while he dropped its friends into the cast iron pan. Rhubarb stalks flew when he sliced, diced, and minced with growing impatience. _Chop. Chop. Chopchopchop._ Sugar, molasses, and butter bubbled on one stovetop while flour, eggs, and oatmeal simmered on another. The range above hummed with glee when Yugi added cinnamon and cloves to the stock pot, causing steam to dance above the boiling orange peels while the lemon zest floundered hopelessly on the bottom. Bowls of clementines lingered on the counter, silently wilting when he reached over to the tangerines on the other side.

 _Seventeen **frigging** times. _

He had tried to recreate Grandma's strawberry rhubarb recipe seventeen times already. Each trial more hopeless than the last. Too sweet. Too tart. Too ripe. Too damn something every frigging time. Grandpa Motou tasted each failure with infinite patience. "Very good," he said in a slightly scraggly voice, a bit hoarse from coughing, especially after the trial with the agave syrup instead of sugar. "You did good, Yugi."

But Yugi knew whatever he made _wasn't_ that good.

Not good _enough_ , anyways.

Grandma made the best strawberry rhubarb. It was what she made for Grandpa when he was ill or sad or needed a little something to help him through the long days of cooking for Chez Motou, bent over the stove as he fried and grilled and steamed. She made it for Yugi, too, when he was ill or sad or needed a little something to help him through the long nights at culinary school, hunched over the counter as he studied and drew and researched.

But she was gone and Yugi couldn't- for all of his training and observation- figure out what was he was missing when making her strawberry rhubarb. He followed the instructions down to the very last slanted letter and he still couldn't recreate that melange of sweet and tart for Grandpa. It was always too something each time. Definitely missing the key ingredient, but what the hell _was_ it?

He had already tried seventeen times to recreate the magic. First adding a little dash of spices; that caused Grandpa to raise an eyebrow while sneezing violently. Next subtracting a splash of sugar; that caused Grandpa to raise his other eyebrow while chugging his milk. Then substituting orange juice instead of lemon; that caused Grandpa to raise both eyebrows while swallowing profusely. The elder Motou always praised his grandson's experiments, but the leftovers that lingered in the display case day after day said it all.

Yugi groaned again.

He would get it _right,_ he would. He just needed a little extra time, yet time was the one thing they didn't have. If business doesn't improve soon they would have to close shop for sure, and then what would they do? Chez Motou was their philosophy; food quite literally their life. It was the business Grandma and Grandpa built together brick by brick, dish by dish, spice by spice. Ever since Grandma passed the customers have visited less and less. The new pastry chef was good, they all said, but they missed the old pastry chef. Even loyal costumers who bought croissants and tarts by the dozen slowly vanished, preferring instead to buy their goods at supermarkets, home of the cheaply processed, cheaply made, and cheaply bought pastries.

"No one appreciates quality anymore," Yugi lamented.

"Their wallets sure as hell don't." Grandpa agreed morosely. At that moment he seemed weary. Older than seventy, certainly, and nowhere near as sprightly as he looked in the Chez Motou logo he and Grandma painted on the shop window.

That sad truth of consumer preferences invaded their account ledgers quite clearly. Red, red, and red; month after month. It was a small miracle that the bank even agreed to extend their loan when they were this far behind on their payments. Probably had something to do with the fact that Mai, the owner's daughter, loved canapes and Yugi had been making those since he was seventeen, hovering eagerly by Grandma's side while she sliced, diced, and minced with well-practiced grace. Moments he could still see in his mind, the dance which he tried to recreate with little success, the end result of which he hoped would bring a smile to Grandpa's face.

Yugi sighed. That was the main reason he wanted to recreate Grandma's strawberry rhubarb. Today, he would have to break the news to Grandpa that this was their last thirty days in their shop; perhaps the dessert would help temper some of the heartbreak of having to pack up their life and drift to...wherever the hell it is that people go when they're forced to move away from the only place they've ever called home...

If only he could figure out what was missing. At least Grandpa could eat slices of happiness wherever they end up. It's always comforted them before; why wouldn't it now?

Suddenly, the doorbell tinkled from the front of the shop. Feathery jingles reverberated throughout the empty space, jerking Yugi awoke from reveries of twirling fruit, nearly knocking over the clementines in haste to answer the door. _Could it be her?_ He pushed through the plastic curtains to find a very pretty brunette standing by the cash register. _It was!_ One of their few new customers. Tall, slender, and graceful, she was studying the display case with a half-smile, head tilted to one side, notepad in one hand and a small purse in the other. Small, neat words decorated the page, along with an illustration of a red, seedy pomegranate and some chemical formulas that looked like squiggly egg drops. Something else was on the pages, too, but then she started talking and Yugi abruptly skydived from marshmallow clouds sprinkled with sesame ganache. _Right. Reality. Ahem._

"Still working on the strawberry rhubarb?" The girl asked kindly, gesturing towards the half-sold pie on the top shelf marked 75% off. Super Chef's Special, the neighboring sign read in loopy swirls. Hardly anyone bought that or anything else in the shop; small wonder she noticed. The shelves were always in full, if somewhat wilted, bloom.

"Yep." Yugi smiled sheepishly. He felt somewhat foolish answering the question for the sixteenth time. She hadn't asked the first day he put the leftover rhubarb in the case, but she started to the second day and ever since it's been their inside joke. It was nice to have someone to talk to besides Grandpa, Yugi decided, even if it was about his failures as cook.

"What happened this time?" She was smiling, too, somewhat sheepishly and somewhat shyly, but the last note was lost on Yugi because he was too busy turning red. A matching yet faint tinge of pink on her cheeks brought a wide grin to his face. The girl really was breathtaking. Like a breath of spring and summer and autumn and winter sprinkled blossoms and petals and leaves and snowflakes- _Oh, right, I'm supposed to respond to questions other people pose_. _Ahem._

"Too much orange zest." His voice sounded high and scratchy, even to his own ears.

"Oh." She laughed. A happy sound that resembled flaky phyllo stuffed with raspberry jam. Yugi wondered if she laughed often. He contemplated what he could do to make her laugh. Knock knock jokes? Bad puns? Witty repartee? He would have to learn how to do those things, though. She leaned over the counter, pressing one delicate finger against his forehead as four others deftly removed the strawberry from his bangs. "Here. I think he's looking for a friend." Another laugh; another blush; another cough disguised as a smile.

"So am I." Yugi blurted out. Instantly, he slapped himself...mentally, as to not scare her. Azure eyes widened in...shock? Curiosity? Happiness? Dare he hope, just a slice that she may give him a chance?

 _No. Waitwait. Stopstopstop._ She's obviously too pretty for you. She's probably dating that Kaiba person from the giant skyscraper, who sent a company limo to pick her up every day. And you would only do that for someone you're serious about, right? That Kaiba sure had it all. Money, brains, looks, and most importantly, a wonderful girl. _The_ girl if there ever was one. And Kaiba was probably a nice person, too, on top of everything else. As if there was any justice in the world. _Lucky bastard._

She laughed again, the most musical sound to grace Chez Motou since afternoon jazz with Frankie Gere, the stage name of Honda Hiroto, Yugi's best friend and sometimes not awful (even he admitted as much) lounge singer, serenade the few customers who remained. Briefly, Yugi wondered if Anzu danced. _Hmmm_. Jounouchi would know. Yugi's other best friend, the house sommelier and sometimes wingman, claimed to know much about women, though of course come to think of it the tall blonde did have a tendency to exaggerate...

At that, Yugi smiled inwardly, landing awkwardly when she spoke again. "Well, you've got one, buddy. I'm Anzu." Her voice was sweet and airy, too, like mousse whipped to perfection with creme fraiche and joy. Yugi melted a little. He could admire her from afar, right? Kaiba didn't have to know, right? Yugi made a note to ask Grandpa about how he met Grandma. _Hopefully it wasn't at a social function, because I'm soooooooooooooooo screwed if that's the case._

"I'm Yugi. Motou. But you probably know that already. My grandpa Sogaruko owns the shop. I'm the pastry chef. Though I'm not very good, sadly. But you probably know that, too, from the leftover rhubarb and all. They're good, I swear, just not quite perfect." Words tumbled like sugar cubes twirling into pudding. _Smooth, Yugi. Real smooth. Like folding chunky peanut butter into rice flour. Well done, Motou. Well done, if you're looking to scare her off forever._

Squashing that terrifying, wayward thought, Yugi began foaming the milk, spilling a little on the counter, which made a hushed _zzziiip_ while it burnt into wisps of smoke. _Anzu._ Huh. The name suited her. It was short, sweet, and a little feisty. Chocolately, too, he noted. She liked that, he remembered. Two teaspoons of white chocolate powder in her expresso, foamed milk, and no extra sugar. A lemon tart to go, with a touch of marmalade on one side and a maraschino cherry sauce on the other. No napkins, just a blue-rimmed lunchbox that matched her eyes tied with a delicate, SK pocket square.

 _What_ the _hell_ _is_ _an_ _SK_?

Yugi didn't get a chance to ask. She was smiling again when she moved to exit and his brain simply refused to form coherent thoughts.

"You'll figure it out, Yugi. Your friend's counting on it." Her fingers brushed against his, leaving the smell of something nuanced and pretty on the rather large bills she handed over. "So you can find some new friends for that lonely strawberry, " she said by way of explanation. Joy vibrated in her voice and fluttered after her and she floated out of the door, into the limo, and out of sight.

A faint tinge colored Yugi's cheeks as he gaped. For several minutes, the image of its twin on her face shimmered in his mind. He brought the bills to his nose and sniffed- there was something about this girl and the bill that seemed intimately familiar. Molecules of sweetness tempered by tartness. Those squiggly egg drops are formulas, he realized, of _scents_. _Of_ _course_! She must be a scientist at Kaiba Corporation, tasked with recreating smells. This one must be part of a new release because Yugi hadn't smelled it before- not that he normally categorized food scents or anything like that (it's what all pastry chefs worth their sugar do, right?); this one struck his nose. Sweet yet tangy with a hint of vanilla, but mostly tart fruit. Now where had he smelled that before?

 ** _Oh._**

 _Pomegranate._

 _That's **it**!_

Grandma's rhubarb contained a splash of pomegranate juice.

* * *

Review? Continue?

(I would highly recommend making strawberry rhubarb with pomegranate juice instead of a citrus juice. It adds a nice bite...)


	2. Honey

**Disclaimer:** I don't own YGO, hence my fangirl tendencies. (See Exhibit A: fanfiction, below.)

* * *

Yugi continued to gape after Anzu in surprise and admiration, lost in a haze of juicy red fruit.

 _What a girl! What serendipity! Of course it's pomegranates- how could I have forgotten?_

Hazy memories accompanied his visions- recollections of lazy Saturday afternoons in the kitchen with Grandma and Grandpa, enveloped by the sharp bite of citrus. Grandma whipping eggs and creme while singing jazz standards. Grandpa zooming around the stovetop as rolling pins and knives accompanied her smoky contralto. Little Yugi (was he really that short even in his memories?) swaying to the beat as he played among the ingredients, then throwing the concerto off key whilst "discovering" a cube of beef bouillon with his tongue.

 _Damn allergies_ , adult Yugi thought, feeling the familiar sting of salt at the corner of his eyes. Ignoring the sudden influx of emotion, he marched to the door, accidentally swinging it shut with more force than necessary and making the battered handle to squawk in protest. The outer frame desperately needed a carpenter's touch, which unfortunately wasn't nearly as important as paying the electric bill. Consequently, the inner door revolved sideways instead of remaining still, always teetering on the cusp of open and close each time the rare customer or employee passed the threshold. The occasional gust rushed in as well, making the door flicker in tandem with the lights. These bouts of absenteeism made the shop appear rather decrepit, which in turn made Yugi feel his twenty some years rather gruesomely. _Ah, well. Another day, another dream, right?_

Surprisingly, the door closed just now without its usual squeal of anguish. Bright bursts of sunlight percolated through the windows, drenching the shop in gold. Chez Motou almost looked like its old self then, albeit a little faded like the black and white photos on the brick wall. With a little jazz, a fresh coat of paint, and a proper door, the interior would looked well-partied in, not charmingly vintage. Closing his eyes for a brief, wondrous second, Yugi imagined the scene as it was fifteen years ago with guests in glamorous gowns and tuxedos whirling around the dance floor amidst the tinkling of wine glasses and saxophones. Afterwards, Grandma and Grandpa would always walk home hand in hand, specks of flour still coating their hair, faint notes of music trailing behind. The fairy tale kind of love indeed, faded yet memorable...

 _Those damn allergies again!_

Wiping a stray tear, Yugi shuffled back to the kitchen, passing the clementines and tangerines and searching for pomegranates among the nearly empty storage rooms. The sight of the waxy red fruit made already irritated eyes water a little bit more. He juiced and peeled the seeds impatiently. If he hurried, he could finish the rhubarb in time to call the electricity company about extending their service. That would probably take an hour and, by then, the crumble should be perfectly golden and crisp, just in time for Grandpa, Jounouchi, and Honda to sample before the lunchtime rush of exactly five customers. Perhaps they could eat something else after that, then put on one of the old vinyls before they started packing. Not that there was much left to pack, Yugi reflected. Almost everything that could be sold had been sold; only the essentials remained, leaving the shop with a minimal, threadbare ambiance.

Maybe moving wouldn't be so bad, Yugi thought halfheartedly as he moved about the kitchen. Perhaps a smaller space would be more...um, suited for them? They would have less to maintain, so at the least it would be much cheaper. What's point of keeping an empty cellar, anyway? It wasn't like they could afford any wines to store. Waste not, want not, right? Good thing there were only a few crates of vegetables left, too; with some luck and ingenuity, they could stretch the stockroom until the end of the month. By then, they'll have started over again with a new stock, somewhere new, hopefully with some rhubarb on their first day for good luck.

 _Ah_ , rhubarb with pomegranate juice.

Yugi brightened as he thought of Anzu again. It really was kind of her to leave enough "tips" for strawberries when, in reality, he knew she purposefully left more than enough each day to cover Jou and Honda's wages. She had been doing that for two weeks, ever since she overheard Jou comforting Shizuka about their instant noodle and canned tuna rations. Zuka was quick to hide her disappointment around strangers but, Anzu, as perceptive as she was, noticed without being told.

Yugi pretend he didn't know what the extra money was for while Anzu pretended she didn't know about their financial difficulties, either. Obviously she had a gift for sensing for when others needed help and, with it, enough sense to make people like Yugi feel as if they were doing her a favor instead of the other way around. (If Yugi wasn't already in love before, he definitely was now, though he hadn't quite figured out what his pounding heart was trying to tell him just yet.) Without Anzu, they would all have to endure another week of budget friendly punishment rations. Both Jou and Honda proclaimed they didn't mind the food, yet their gaunt frames proclaimed their needs quite clearly...

Speaking of which, since she left more than usual today...maybe, just maybe, he could surprise Zuka with something other than their usual fare.

Yugi eyed the leftover pomegranate juice speculatively. Possibilities whizzed across his consciousness, the memory of Anzu's smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brightened. Now what could he make for that wonderful, wonderful girl when she came back tomorrow morning... _O_ _f course!_ A pomegranate honey drizzle and some baklava! There was a roll of leftover phyllo dough from their first and only catering job this year as well as their last half pound of walnuts. He had contemplated making a trendy vegan zucchini bread or a gluten free walnut butter mousse, but, seeing as how the parking lot was consistently empty, he decided to bake for his employees instead. At least this way Zuka won't have to endure tuna ramen again. _Yuck_.

With that, Yugi set to work around the kitchen, forgetting all about the outstanding electric bill when he lost himself in whisking ingredients together. While the amber-ish orange glaze simmered on the stove top, the bell at the front of the shop jingled. A very hyper blonde bounced inside, one jean-clad leg propping the door open with both arms fastened around a wooden crate that wobbled precariously. The box collided with the brick facade, sending Jou sprawling across the floor. " _Yuge?_ Little help-"

The clattering of glass and wood meeting the floor muffled the rest of the question. Yugi whizzed towards the sound, nearly skidding on some stray pomegranate seeds when his chef's hat flopped over his face.

 _What the-_

 _CRAP on a cracker!_

Tossing his hat aside, he saw a familiar, half-smashed box splayed on the floor as he extended his arms to Jou. It was rectangular, with cardboard dividers and foam on the inside, a squarish corner of a flowery crest partially obscured by carvings of grapes. He hadn't seen those boxes in a very long time, not since the representative from First Domino Bank began managing their books, which would be at least three years. _French vintages? Where the hell did Jou find the money-_

Jou virtually glowed with excitement when he used Yugi's arms as levers to launch himself up, nearly hitting the ceiling in his excitement and making the younger boy wince. The older boy- wait, was he really _skipping_?- skipped towards the middle of the shop, stopping just short of steamrolling a chair into nearby table. Jou grinned with the enthusiasm of a child leaving the time-out corner early for milk and cookies as he unearthed a glass bottle from the wood wreckage with a triumphant clang. "Whaddaya think, Yuge?"

 _Think?!_ Yugi didn't know what to think. He mirrored the grin timidly, then frowned as he wondered how exactly Jou came to possess several thousand dollar's worth of wine. Certainly Chez Motou was in any position to turn away such rare vintages, but, then again, it was highly probable that said wines were funded by Jou's weekly poker bets. (Not that Yugi blamed his friend for trying to save Zuka from the canned vegetable monster...With the way business _wasn't_ going, Yugi had half a mind to supplement their income, too, gambling or not!)

But first, the merchandise.

Yugi inspected the bottle with curiosity. The tags appeared genuine. The crests were definitely the right shade of pale pink, the embossed watermarks twinkled in the light, and this brand's signature golden ribbons seemed authentic enough. The manufacture's stamps looked characteristically beige, too, engraved into the bottom of the bottle in the house's distinct script. The containers were real but the years looked suspicious. "JOU! A '78 Bordeaux! How- how did you, I mean, how are we paying-"

"Don't worry! It's totally cool!" Jou put on his best I-don't-know-what-you're-yammering-about face, which withered painfully upon meeting Yugi's I'm-sure-you-do-ya-nimrod glare.

The blonde shuffled awkwardly from one foot to the other before suddenly developing a life-sustaining interest in a few stray plastic packing peanuts that, coincidentally, were skittering out of the wooden crates towards the back storage room, conveniently far, far away from Yugi's unblinking stare. Silence draped the room while the light bulbs above flickered. Pretending to notice the disco show above for the first time, Jou adopted an exaggerated expression of surprise before awkwardly changing the subject. "You want me ask the electric company if their refrigerator is running?"

At that, Yugi cracked a small smile. It was always practical jokes and humor with Jou; the man was hardly ever serious. Bullies harassing you at school? Jou made sure they eat nothing but silly string for a week, along with a few well aimed punches when Yugi wasn't looking. Grocery supplier no longer extending credit? Open an impromptu yo-yo school for the neighborhood children, stopping only when the grocers begged him to stop "walking the dog" around the produce...in exchange for continued delivery, of course. Bank still questioning their business practices? Leave the owner's daughter complimentary tickets to a magic show starring the magnificent Jou Katsuya turning water into wine with Honda's unwilling "assistance." Mai was amused even though Yugi overheard her and Zuka giggling at the obviously fantastical premise of the show. The poor reviews didn't stop Jou from asking Yugi to invite Anzu to the fiasco, however.

 _Focus_ , _Motou_ , _focus_.

Speaking of wine...Yugi suddenly remembered to bring the conversation back to the bottles on the floor. By that time, Jou had already disappeared into the cellar with the battered crate, leaving Yugi alone in the shop. The sound of various boxes being arranged and rearranged drifted from the tiny storage room, along with muffled curses as something collapsed from the top shelf. Jou's voice boomed a moment later. "Yuge, can you send Honda in with the hammer?"

Yugi was about to call for Honda when he realized his other friend was not in the shop.

 _Huh._ Jou, arriving before Honda? How positively _odd_. In five years they've worked together, Jou had been early exactly two times and Honda had been late...well, never. He always zoomed exactly fifteen minutes on his dangerously expensive motorcycle, brunette hair whipping in the wind as Shizuka watched admiringly from inside the shop, taking care to avoid Jou's curious gaze. Grandpa was always lecturing Honda about buying a helmet, though; perhaps today is the day Honda finally listened to some sense?

Evidently not.

At that moment, Honda rushed in the door, helmet-less, diving past Yugi with a small wave into the storage room in less than two minutes, sans hammer. Again the shop was curiously quiet save the squeaking of the front door. Yugi gaped, puzzled. How very _odd indeed!_

Then he looked through the swinging door to the empty parking lot. The fact that it was empty wasn't surprising; what was surprising was that Honda's bike was conspicuously missing from its usual perch under the oak tree.

 _Huh. No bike...new wines...Jou and Honda's curious behavior..._

 _ **Oh.**_

That... _ **baka**..._ sold his bike.

Sniffling again, Yugi shuffled back to the kitchen, leaning over the counters with renewed concentration.

The strawberry rhubarb turned out perfectly. So did the honey-pomegranate baklava. but neither Jou, Honda, or Grandpa commented on each other's suspiciously red-rimmed eyes.

 _Damn allergies_ , they all agreed.

* * *

Across town, at Kaiba Corp Laboratories, the air conditioning hummed while Anzu fluttered. She always danced a little while mixing compounds at her workbench. Today it was a jazzy, cheery tempo that matched the saxophone-led symphony pouring from the speakers.

Around her, various liquids graced neat, rectangular rows of test tubes labeled by compound type. Here were the aldehydes, resplendent in their fizzy, elegant charm, grouped by type and potency. There were the hediones with their aloof richness, standing proudly tall in shades of floral. Various solvents danced with Anzu while she mixed. A little bit more alcohol here, a dash of filtered water there, a little pinch of catalyst like so...and _voila_!

Phenylacetic acid or, as it was more commonly known, honey. Or at least the smell of honey, if she could ever get the concentration right. _Ugh_. She groaned as yet another formula failed. _Why the hell did we choose this honey and pomegranate combination again?_

Right... Dr. Ishizu Ishtar, the head scientist, decided it would be the perfect addition to their as-yet-untitled old world classics collection. They finished a Mediterranean-style gourmand inspired by Ancient Rome last month; the current project was to be a tribute to Ancient Egypt, hence the pomegranate and honey theme. Pomegranate for prosperity and honey for royalty, according to Dr. Ishtar, who specialized in ancient cuisine as well as molecular engineering. Predictably, the teacher had already perfected the sparkling pomegranate formula while Anzu, the student, was still struggling with the honey molecule. _Ugh_. If only she could concentrate instead of thinking about Yugi!

Sighing, Anzu sniffed the silk SK pocket again. Why Seto Kaiba insisted on testing each fragrance on monogrammed company handkerchiefs, she didn't know, but she and the entire lab humored their CEO's somewhat megalomaniac tendencies. He meant well despite his poor bedside manner, hence the insistence on using the company limo as a shuttle. That icy exterior protected a very warm heart, though, Anzu was careful to hide her knowledge. Wouldn't do for Seto to know that everyone knew and appreciated his giving larger than usual quarterly bonuses. Ostensibly, it was because their sales numbers were good, but she knew it was because he knew they were pooling funds to help a sick colleague whose hospital bills had just been mysteriously paid in full by an unknown benefactor. Like everyone else, she just pretended like she didn't notice the extra zeros on her pay stub and passed it forward to others in need.

Speaking of which, Anzu suddenly recalled the adorably pink (plain old adorable, really, blush or no blush) face of a certain brunette/blonde/red-head who loved strawberry rhubarb from the morning. We're really quite alike, she mused. He's trying to find the right combination of flavors and I try to do the same with scents. Except I'm at work and I really should be calculating molarities instead of thinking about _him_...

 _(Right_. _**Yugi**._ He said his name was Yugi. _Yu_ - _gi._ Two weeks and I finally know his name. Progress, Mazaki, progress.)

Get a _grip_ , Anzu!

Sighing, she banished Yugi from her mind and returned her attention to her test tubes, mixing new solutions with well-practiced ease. Tiny glass rods that tinkled happily as they whirled around the containers. The sound reminded her of the bell at Chez Motou. _Maybe I could swing by after work...I'll be hungry then, and it would be great to see if I've scared him off with all that friendship talk._

Having decided such, she turned her attention back to the workbench, no longer distracted. She wafted her fingers above the first vial tentatively. She constructed the compound last night on a whim, when she was wondering what his name was and imagined him to be a Tom or Harry or George. Thank goodness his name was Yugi, though. She didn't quite know how she would have felt if he had an standard sort of name when he was obviously a very non-standard person, not that there was anything wrong with being named Tom or Harry or George. They were OK names, she thought, kind of like the vial she was testing. Pleasantly bland yet forgettable, not at all suited for the vibrant pomegranate it was supposed to pair.

Setting the first vial down, she picked up the second and wrinkled her nose in confusion. She had constructed the formula on a whim, too, early this morning when she thought his name could be terribly far-fetched like Hippie or Laundry Basket. This one smelled excessively unique, with an astringent and bitter quality that would smother the pomegranate's sparkling character. _Ewwww. Definitely not a suitable duo._

Replacing the second vial, she picked up the third. She had, with a flash of inspiration, spliced together several compounds after visiting Chez Motou his morning, the memory of Yugi's face in her mind. She sniffed gingerly, half expecting another dud. Hmm...Rich, creamy, and buttery like a confection of spun sugar swans. Blotting a little liquid onto the pocket square, she sniffed again. Just _perfect!_ Soft caresses of verdant florals seeped through the concoction, anchoring Dr. Ishtar's fizzy pomegranate formula perfectly. Scent soulmates indeed.

 _Yugi._

 _Honey._

* * *

I'll be back in a few weeks with a new chapter. Please review in the meantime?


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